


It's (Not) Different This Time

by idcishipit



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idcishipit/pseuds/idcishipit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash didn't know what to expect when he boarded the Staff of Charon, but it wasn't complete radio silence.</p><p>Now with one of the other original endings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Red vs Blue. RoosterTeeth does. This is my first fic ever and I have no beta so if there's any mistakes they're completely my fault. Part of this story is directly quoted from the webseries.
> 
> The second chapter contains the alternative ending.   
> One is sad and the other is worse.  
> Both stories are the exact same up to a certain point.

Landing onto Hargrove's ship was too easy. No AA guns. No soldiers. No alarms.

The hanger was empty of everything except some aircraft that were also bare of anything. There were nine doors leading out of this hanger, probably leading to hallways connecting to the rest of the _Staff of Charon_. And then there was a catwalk above lining more doors. This one hanger was huge, and it was only a small fraction of the ship. Wash felt his heart sinking. All he wanted was to find his friends and take them home but, now that he was standing in the ship, he realized how hard it may be. 

They didn't know where the Reds and Blues landed or where they headed off to. There were only about thirty of them, including two pilots. Wash felt his heart sinking farther and farther down his chest. 

"Carolina-"

"I know, Wash. Johnson, Lee, Monaghan, take your squads down the three halls to the west. Howe, Hughes, Taylor, head north. Zheng and Willis keep your squads here and guard the Pelicans. Watch for ships flying around. Long, follow Washington and me down the east corridors. I want a report if any of you find so much as a muddy footprint, got it?"

Each captain saluted Carolina and headed toward their assigned sections with Long and her squad already working their way east. 

Wash and Carolina stood outside their adjacent doorways simply staring at one another. Wash hoped he wasn't alone with a heart thudding a mile a minute. Before turning to head down his hall, Wash needed to know what Carolina thought, because she was the one who lead their missions successfully and calculated what to do when problems arose. At least before that fucking leaderboard bullshit. 

"Why aren't there any soldiers? Where would they go, why aren't there a million alarms blaring? Carolina?" 

She didn't answer him for a moment, and her hesitation terrified him. 

"I don't know. I really don't. Maybe Epsilon got into the system and overrode them. Maybe Hargrove is doing this on purpose. But we have to be ready for anything, got it? We may fall into a trap or the alarms might start unexpectedly. You have to be ready to handle that Wash."

He felt his face burn a little. Carolina was with him once when an air raid siren went off, and she found out what set him off and that he wasn't exactly as fine as he pretended with her. Tucker and Caboose knew but she hadn't and they had had a long talk about the MOI crash after she found Tucker for him and he could breathe again. 

"Don't worry, Boss. It was unexpected at home but I know to expect the unexpected from the field. Except I'm expecting it." He thought over what he had just said, "Forget I said that. You weren't the only one who jumped off that building, remember? By the way, that was the worst plan ever. Of all time."

"You lived didn't you?" But he could hear the smile in her voice. Sobering, she said, "Try radioing them, they know you better and will probably notice you better than me, and get their location. Don't be surprised if they don't answer, there might be a jammer. Let's get going. I don't want everyone to be separated longer than we need to be without more reinforcements."

Once upon a time, Carolina would rather shoot her own foot than wait for reinforcements. Sometimes she was still that way which meant something important and terrible to Wash. 

He wasn't the only one freaking the fuck out. 

"Got it, Boss." He mocked saluted her to cover his anxiety as he treaded down his hallway. Gray walls, gray floors, and gray doors.

_"Tucker? Are you there, Tucker?"_ Wash radioed. There wasn't a response or a burst of static or the hint of someone unconscious breathing. 

_"Tucker, answer your goddamn radio."_

_"Caboose? Buddy?"_

_"Epsilon?"_

_"Sarge? Grif? Simmons?"_

_"Lopez?"_

_"Doc? Donut?"_

Wash felt his throat constricting more after each man didn't answer, after each empty, consuming silence. There should at least be static with a jammer. His insides were quickly rearranging so they weren't in the right spots and his arms were getting shaky. His shoulders were hunching _._ His chest was aching _._

_It's a jammer._  Wash thought frantically _. One of the fancy ones so even static doesn't have a chance of being decoded. Epsilon is occupied with the alarms and guns so he can't overwrite the jammer while also focusing on the guys. It’s just too much for one AI to do, even Epsilon._

But a much stronger thought was growing. 

_Not again. I can't do this again. I won't survive._

The halls of Hargrove's ship were remarkably similar to Freelancer's. The only reasons that he wasn't yet curled into a ball hyperventilating was the absence of alarms and that he was calling different names this time. For different people. 

_"Please. Someone answer their radio. Please. Guys. Please."_

People who weren't answering him because Hargrove had money for fancy jammers. 

_"Let me know you're safe. That you're alive."_

_"Wash?"_ His heart stopped _. "Have you found them?"_

Carolina. Her voice was not one he wanted to hear. It wasn't one of the nine he craved. Needed. 

_"No. None of them are answering their radios."_

Wash's voice shook so much it could have leveled a city. 

Carolina must have been panicking too, but she was a leader and could control her voice and thoughts to be effective. 

_"Okay. Let's go back to the hanger and try one of the other hallways. There's probably a jammer knowing Hargrove. Their armor doesn't have as much reach as ours do if there isn't one. They might be a room where they can't get signal too."_ She hesitated, then said, " _These guys have survived so much, Wash, a nuclear bomb would probably just annoy them."_

Wash swallowed hard, trying to grab onto Carolina's faith in his team. He knew they had survived a lot. They survived him, the Meta, Wyoming, Tex, Felix, and Locus. Hell, they survived each other. But survival didn't equal invincibility. It didn't mean he wouldn't stumble into a room of rainbow armor empty in all the important ways. 

_"Carolina-"_ He tried again voice trembling _, "Carolina, I can't do it again. I can't. I can't be the only one again. I can't be alone again."_

_"Hey! Wash, they're not gone. You're fears are getting to you."_  She paused, and then as gentle as he ever heard her _, "I'm not leaving you, Wash. Ever. I swear to you I won't leave you alone again. I'm sorry you were alone. That I wasn't there. But I'm here now. And so are the Reds and Blues. Hell itself couldn't keep us from saving you from being alone again."_

He was silent for a minute. He wanted to believe her so badly. He knew she was genuinely sorry, but he couldn't believe in her promise. Too much had happened to him with a variety of people. But he knew she cared for the guys as much as he did. 

_"I just want them back on Chorus. Then we'll steal a ship and we'll go back to their old outpost. Blood Gulch, it was called. But we will pick up Junior and Sister first. Grif's sister trashed Blue base but we'll clean it and then once that is over we'll play capture the flag and do our stupid negotiations. And when that gets boring we'll do those old poker games. The winners got first pick from the supply drop. I don't know if they still do that. Drop it off, I mean. I doubt it. But somehow I'll do it. I'll do anything to get their lives back to normal."_

He knew he was rambling, but it was something he's been dreaming for a long, long time. 

Carolina was silent on the radio. 

_"You know, Wash, none of this is your fault."_

_"I know that. But I’ve made it worse. I feel like breaking that bathroom mirror in middle school didn't give me seven years of bad luck. It gave me and everyone I have ever known seven lifetimes of it instead."_

He walked back into the hanger up to a waiting Carolina. His eyes burning and itchy and blurry. He would be glad she couldn't see him, but he knew his voice gave him away. The same way that her voice tore down his hopes into fear as soon as she asked if he had found them. He had been fighting the thought the way his psychologist at Freelancer taught him to. How to keep thoughts at bay until he could handle them outside of combat. But Carolina had to know if she didn't already. 

"Carolina," he said thickly, "there's no jammer. If there was we wouldn't have been able to talk to each other. So why aren't they answering me? WHY AREN'T THEY ANSWERING?"

“Wash, I-“

_“Agent Carolina, ma’am? This is Captain Howe. There is some carnage down the far left hall on the north side. I’ve sent Collins ahead to scout. Snow and I are holding back.”_

“Who, Howe?”

_“UNSC soldiers, ma’am. Looks like some pirates too. Collins says that the hall turns left and then right. I’m not sending him any farther alone.”_

“He doesn’t have too. Washington and I are on our way. Zheng, Willis, stay here. Long, head back so you’re not down east alone. Johnson come on back. Monaghan and Lee keep going west. You too, Hughes and Taylor. Wash, let’s go.”

Neither freelancer spoke as they swiftly walked down Howe’s hall. Wash liked to think he didn’t revel in a battlefield, but if Howe was telling the truth, the carnage meant someone besides the UNSC and pirates were fighting. And if thanking god for the dead people lying in the hall sent him to hell, he didn’t care. He figured he was probably already going for worse things.

They walked quite a ways before they saw Howe, Snow, and Collins at the end of the hall. The captain was right: the entire hallway was painted with blood. There were at least twenty bodies in black armor decorating the floor. No colors marred the sea of black.

Collins spoke, “They continue down the halls, agents.”

They fought their way into the ship? All this way? Then why weren’t there bodies in the hanger?

“I know that you’ve had more experience than me, but I think someone ran _to_ the hanger rather than away,” Howe spoke hesitantly. “It seems like more men were facing down the hall instead of fleeing to their aircraft.”

Wash’s confusion was closing his throat more. If they had run to the hanger did that mean they left the ship already? He hadn’t noticed any space in the hanger. They had landed on the runway because there was nowhere else to go.

“You three stay here. Wash and I will go down and report back to you. Keep in contact with the other squads because we can’t reach the Reds and Blues through the radio. Going deeper in seems to limit radio range. Keep an eye out.” Carolina commanded. Wash couldn’t find his voice, too busy thinking of what was at the end of the hall.

“C’mon, Wash,” Carolina said, her voice low.

No matter Wash stepped, he still stepped in puddles of blood. His boots were starting to stain. When they turned the corner he held his breath before looking back up. Air rushed out of his lungs when there weren’t any colors besides gray, black, and red. Not the red he was afraid of, however.

Carolina was silent as well. The blood stood out starkly from her cyan armor.

They stepped around more armor until the hallway turned to the right. And what Wash saw knocked the wind out of him.

At the end of the hall a door was resting on the floor of a room, its sides blackened as if by fire.

“Epsilon?” How could Carolina speak? His heart was beating in his throat and his bones were trembling. What would they find?

And then Maine steps into the doorway.

With Tucker’s sword.

Wash’s body defied science by turning to pure ice.

Tucker’s sword only worked for Tucker. The only way it would work for someone one else was if Tucker was dead and that simply wasn’t possible. Just like Maine wasn’t standing in the doorway covered in cyan with someone else’s energy sword, not Tucker’s.

_Why does Maine have Tucker’s sword._

Wash was afraid, but not of Maine.

Cyan Maine froze when he caught sight of his two former teammates. And then he deactivated Tucker’s sword and his hands went to the clasps that connected his helmet to chest piece. Raising his helmet off of his face nearly relapsed Wash.

But it wasn’t a clean-shaven head that appeared. It was dreadlocks.

Why was Tucker wearing Maine’s suit? It was at the bottom of freezing waters how is it here how did Tucker get it why was it cyan instead of white where were the others why were Tucker’s eyes bloodshot and fearful?

“Wash? Carolina?” Tucker cracked. His voice was rough and tired.

Wash was relieved about finding his best friend alive, but he didn’t see Caboose or any of the Reds. He understood now why Tucker didn’t answer his radio, he hadn’t used his and Maine’s for a longtime nor did he have reason to.

“Where is everyone? Why didn’t they answer their radios?” The presence of Maine’s suit could wait.

Still sounding exhausted, “They’re fine. Everyone turned their radios off.”

“Why? Why would you do that? We didn’t know what happened to you! If you were alive!” His voice was doing the high pitched thing but he really, really didn’t care.

Tucker stared at him and seemed to understand because his eyes softened slightly.

“Everyone’s…I’m sorry, guys, but we needed to. Come in here.”

Wash’s mind was silent but racing at the same time. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Tucker was alive in Maine’s suit. He said everyone was fine. As he walked through the doorway ahead of Carolina, he saw eight armored men. They were all standing against the wall with the doorway with their helmets off. How have they not learned to keep their helmets on? He knew they could be stupid, but not that stupid.

“Washingtub!” Caboose. Relief swept through him they were all here. Standing. Breathing. And as far as he could tell by their faces, they weren’t injured.

“Hey there, buddy,” Wash forced past his throat.

“Church is playing hide and seek! I told him it wasn’t a good idea ‘cause so many people were seeking! But he’s really good! There aren’t a lot of hiding places in here, but he’s winning! He’s so good because he is my best friend and we win together. They found me over there!” He pointed enthusiastically at the corner, “But Tucker found me. He made me lose. Stupid Tucker.”

“Tucker, what does he mean ‘hide and seek’?” Carolina said dangerously.

“Hello, Agent Carolina. Agent Washington.”

“Delta?” Both freelancers asked in disbelief. Floating above Caboose’s shoulder was the green AI. Looking just as he did when Wash first saw him at York’s side.

“We didn’t know what to do. That’s why our radios and helmets are off. With O’Malley and all.” Tucker said.

“O’Malley?” Tucker had told Wash about some of their adventures in the canyon and he remembered Omega jumping through radio frequencies. “Tucker. What the hell is going on?”

“Where. Is. Epsilon.” Carolina. She was practically growling.

“He left me an audio file to give you. He wanted it played when all of you were together. He thought it would be easier,” Delta said, not as monotone as Wash remembered him being. He then turned Epsilon’s blue, but remained in his own armor projection. Epsilon’s voice projected from Delta. It lacked his usual bite.

_“Hey guys... if you're hearing this then it means you did it. You won. You kicked the shit out of Hargrove's forces. I knew you could. But this is my last stop._

_“See, when I came into this world, I was really just a collection of somebody else's memories.  But with your help, these memories... they-they took form! They became my voice, my personality. And, after a while, I... I began to make brand new memories of my own. All of these things are what make me who I am... but they're also holding me back. I can't run this suit as Epsilon, but if I erase my memories, if I... deconstruct myself, the fragments I'll leave behind will have the strength to get you through this. I believe that.  I wish that there was another way._

_“But I’m leaving this message, as well as others, in the hopes that you'll understand why I have to go this time...hehe, it was actually Doyle who made me realize something that I've never thought of before. There are so many stories where some brave hero decides to give their life to save the day, and because of their sacrifice, the good guys win, the survivors all cheer, and everybody lives happily ever after.  But the hero... never gets to see that ending. They'll never know if their sacrifice actually made a difference. They'll never know if the day was really saved._

_“In the end, they just have to have faith._

_“Ain't that a bitch.”_

 After the crash of the _Mother of Invention_ , Wash's head was always filled with what the psychologists called intrusive thoughts. They would wind through his mind whispering or screaming things he knew were wrong but couldn't control half the time. Prison didn't help and hunting down Epsilon only amplified them. Trekking the ship to find his team only added fuel to their fire today. Donning stolen blue armor not had only protected him from bullets, but usually effectively shielded him from the daggers flying within his head; all but silenced. 

 Now the previous owner of that armor killed every single thought Wash had. 

 The room was completely silent.

 "I mean Church, Alpha, split apart and lived? Can't Epsilon do that?" Tucker asked desperately.

 Carolina was silent.

 Wash wished Tucker was right. So they wouldn't hurt. But Epsilon was a fragment. It was like multiplying fractions wasn't it but with iterations? Alpha was the first generation, Epsilon, Delta, and Theta the second. This new Delta? Was he the third generation? He said he left fragments behind and Tucker mentioned Omega. Would they make Epsilon their Alpha? Would they want to be reunited too? Would Sigma desire to be whole again? Would there be another Meta?

“I am sorry for your loss,” Delta said quietly, “I have his other messages, however, I do not believe that right now is the time or place.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------

They were flying back to Chorus with the AIs in everyone’s helmet resting far from the cockpit. Carolina hadn’t said a word. No one had. Delta would give them their messages later. Wash was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep well tonight. Or the next couple of days. Epsilon’s fractioning was the same as Alpha’s because of course he remembered. But Epsilon didn’t make it; he was already a fragment. Caboose thought he was still playing hide and seek.

Epsilon was in Tucker’s suit rather than his head and everyone lived. Everyone was sane for now. Wash and Epsilon never really absolved their issues, but Wash and him had some sort of comradery through nightmares and the common goal of keeping everyone safe. Wash knew this time wasn’t the same. None of them were alone. Only one person had died, but it still felt the same. He hoped this time would be different. But it wasn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternative ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you reading both versions, they are exactly the same up to a certain point. I would put in something to signify where it changed, but I didn't know exactly a good way to do it, so I apologize to you.

It’s (Not) Different This Time

Landing onto Hargrove's ship was too easy. No AA guns. No soldiers. No alarms.

The hanger was empty of everything except some aircraft that were also bare of anything. There were nine doors leading out of this hanger, probably leading to hallways connecting to the rest of the _Staff of Charon_. And then there was a catwalk above lining more doors. This one hanger was huge, and it was only a small fraction of the ship. Wash felt his heart sinking. All he wanted was to find his friends and take them home but, now that he was standing in the ship, he realized how hard it may be. 

They didn't know where the Reds and Blues landed or where they headed off to. There were only about thirty of them, including two pilots. Wash felt his heart sinking farther and farther down his chest. 

"Carolina-"

"I know, Wash. Johnson, Lee, Monaghan, take your squads down the three halls to the west. Howe, Hughes, Taylor, head north. Zheng and Willis keep your squads here and guard the Pelicans. Watch for ships flying around. Long, follow Washington and me down the east corridors. I want a report if any of you find so much as a muddy footprint, got it?"

Each captain saluted Carolina and headed toward their assigned sections with Long and her squad already working their way east. 

Wash and Carolina stood outside their adjacent doorways simply staring at one another. Wash hoped he wasn't alone with a heart thudding a mile a minute. Before turning to head down his hall, Wash needed to know what Carolina thought, because she was the one who lead their missions successfully and calculated what to do when problems arose. At least before that fucking leaderboard bullshit. 

"Why aren't there any soldiers? Where would they go, why aren't there a million alarms blaring? Carolina?" 

She didn't answer him for a moment, and her hesitation terrified him. 

"I don't know. I really don't. Maybe Epsilon got into the system and overrode them. Maybe Hargrove is doing this on purpose. But we have to be ready for anything, got it? We may fall into a trap or the alarms might start unexpectedly. You have to be ready to handle that Wash."

He felt his face burn a little. Carolina was with him once when an air raid siren went off, and she found out what set him off and that he wasn't exactly as fine as he pretended with her. Tucker and Caboose knew but she hadn't and they had had a long talk about the MOI crash after she found Tucker for him and he could breathe again. 

"Don't worry, Boss. It was unexpected at home but I know to expect the unexpected from the field. Except I'm expecting it." He thought over what he had just said, "Forget I said that. You weren't the only one who jumped off that building, remember? By the way, that was the worst plan ever. Of all time."

"You lived didn't you?" But he could hear the smile in her voice. Sobering, she said, "Try radioing them, they know you better and will probably notice you better than me, and get their location. Don't be surprised if they don't answer, there might be a jammer. Let's get going. I don't want everyone to be separated longer than we need to be without more reinforcements."

Once upon a time, Carolina would rather shoot her own foot than wait for reinforcements. Sometimes she was still that way which meant something important and terrible to Wash. 

He wasn't the only one freaking the fuck out. 

"Got it, Boss." He mocked saluted her to cover his anxiety as he treaded down his hallway. Gray walls, gray floors, and gray doors.

_"Tucker? Are you there, Tucker?"_ Wash radioed. There wasn't a response or a burst of static or the hint of someone unconscious breathing. 

_"Tucker, answer your goddamn radio."_

_"Caboose? Buddy?"_

_"Epsilon?"_

_"Sarge? Grif? Simmons?"_

_"Lopez?"_

_"Doc? Donut?"_

Wash felt his throat constricting more after each man didn't answer, after each empty, consuming silence. There should at least be static with a jammer. His insides were quickly rearranging so they weren't in the right spots and his arms were getting shaky. His shoulders were hunching _._ His chest was aching _._

_It's a jammer._  Wash thought frantically _. One of the fancy ones so even static doesn't have a chance of being decoded. Epsilon is occupied with the alarms and guns so he can't overwrite the jammer while also focusing on the guys. It’s just too much for one AI to do, even Epsilon._

But a much stronger thought was growing. 

_Not again. I can't do this again. I won't survive._

The halls of Hargrove's ship were remarkably similar to Freelancer's. The only reasons that he wasn't yet curled into a ball hyperventilating was the absence of alarms and that he was calling different names this time. For different people. 

_"Please. Someone answer their radio. Please. Guys. Please."_

People who weren't answering him because Hargrove had money for fancy jammers. 

_"Let me know you're safe. That you're alive."_

_"Wash?"_ His heart stopped _. "Have you found them?"_

Carolina. Her voice was not one he wanted to hear. It wasn't one of the nine he craved. Needed. 

_"No. None of them are answering their radios."_

Wash's voice shook so much it could have leveled a city. 

Carolina must have been panicking too, but she was a leader and could control her voice and thoughts to be effective. 

_"Okay. Let's go back to the hanger and try one of the other hallways. There's probably a jammer knowing Hargrove. Their armor doesn't have as much reach as ours do if there isn't one. They might be a room where they can't get signal too."_ She hesitated, then said, " _These guys have survived so much, Wash, a nuclear bomb would probably just annoy them."_

Wash swallowed hard, trying to grab onto Carolina's faith in his team. He knew they had survived a lot. They survived him, the Meta, Wyoming, Tex, Felix, and Locus. Hell, they survived each other. But survival didn't equal invincibility. It didn't mean he wouldn't stumble into a room of rainbow armor empty in all the important ways. 

_"Carolina-"_ He tried again voice trembling _, "Carolina, I can't do it again. I can't. I can't be the only one again. I can't be alone again."_

_"Hey! Wash, they're not gone. You're fears are getting to you."_  She paused, and then as gentle as he ever heard her _, "I'm not leaving you, Wash. Ever. I swear to you I won't leave you alone again. I'm sorry you were alone. That I wasn't there. But I'm here now. And so are the Reds and Blues. Hell itself couldn't keep us from saving you from being alone again."_

He was silent for a minute. He wanted to believe her so badly. He knew she was genuinely sorry, but he couldn't believe in her promise. Too much had happened to him with a variety of people. But he knew she cared for the guys as much as he did. 

_"I just want them back on Chorus. Then we'll steal a ship and we'll go back to their old outpost. Blood Gulch, it was called. But we will pick up Junior and Sister first. Grif's sister trashed Blue base but we'll clean it and then once that is over we'll play capture the flag and do our stupid negotiations. And when that gets boring we'll do those old poker games. The winners got first pick from the supply drop. I don't know if they still do that. Drop it off, I mean. I doubt it. But somehow I'll do it. I'll do anything to get their lives back to normal."_

He knew he was rambling, but it was something he's been dreaming for a long, long time. 

Carolina was silent on the radio. 

_"You know, Wash, none of this is your fault."_

_"I know that. But I’ve made it worse. I feel like breaking that bathroom mirror in middle school didn't give me seven years of bad luck. It gave me and everyone I have ever known seven lifetimes of it instead."_

He walked back into the hanger up to a waiting Carolina. His eyes burning and itchy and blurry. He would be glad she couldn't see him, but he knew his voice gave him away. The same way that her voice tore down his hopes into fear as soon as she asked if he had found them. He had been fighting the thought the way his psychologist at Freelancer taught him to. How to keep thoughts at bay until he could handle them outside of combat. But Carolina had to know if she didn't already. 

"Carolina," he said thickly, "there's no jammer. If there was we wouldn't have been able to talk to each other. So why aren't they answering me? WHY AREN'T THEY ANSWERING?"

“Wash, I-“

_“Agent Carolina, ma’am? This is Captain Howe. There is some carnage down the far left hall on the north side. I’ve sent Collins ahead to scout. Snow and I are holding back.”_

“Who, Howe?”

_“UNSC soldiers, ma’am. Looks like some pirates too. Collins says that the hall turns left and then right. I’m not sending him any farther alone.”_

“He doesn’t have too. Washington and I are on our way. Zheng, Willis, stay here. Long, head back so you’re not down east alone. Johnson come on back. Monaghan and Lee keep going west. You too, Hughes and Taylor. Wash, let’s go.”

Neither freelancer spoke as they swiftly walked down Howe’s hall. Wash liked to think he didn’t revel in a battlefield, but if Howe was telling the truth, the carnage meant someone besides the UNSC and pirates were fighting. And if thanking god for the dead people lying in the hall sent him to hell, he didn’t care. He figured he was probably already going for worse things.

They walked quite a ways before they saw Howe, Snow, and Collins at the end of the hall. The captain was right: the entire hallway was painted with blood. There were at least twenty bodies in black armor decorating the floor. No colors marred the sea of black.

Collins spoke, “They continue down the halls, agents.”

They fought their way into the ship? All this way? Then why weren’t there bodies in the hanger?

“I know that you’ve had more experience than me, but I think someone ran _to_ the hanger rather than away,” Howe spoke hesitantly. “It seems like more men were facing down the hall instead of fleeing to their aircraft.”

Wash’s confusion was closing his throat more. If they had run to the hanger did that mean they left the ship already? He hadn’t noticed any space in the hanger. They had landed on the runway because there was nowhere else to go.

“You three stay here. Wash and I will go down and report back to you. Keep in contact with the other squads because we can’t reach the Reds and Blues through the radio. Going deeper in seems to limit radio range. Keep an eye out.” Carolina commanded. Wash couldn’t find his voice, too busy thinking of what was at the end of the hall.

“C’mon, Wash,” Carolina said, her voice low.

No matter Wash stepped, he still stepped in puddles of blood. His boots were starting to stain. When they turned the corner he held his breath before looking back up. Air rushed out of his lungs when there weren’t any colors besides gray, black, and red. Not the red he was afraid of, however.

Carolina was silent as well. The blood stood out starkly from her cyan armor.

They stepped around more armor until the hallway turned to the right. And what Wash saw knocked the wind out of him.

At the end of the hall a door was resting on the floor of a room, its sides blackened as if by fire.

“Epsilon?” How could Carolina speak? His heart was beating in his throat and his bones were trembling. What would they find?

And then Maine steps into the doorway.

With Tucker’s sword.

Wash’s body defied science by turning to pure ice.

Tucker’s sword only worked for Tucker. The only way it would work for someone one else was if Tucker was dead and that simply wasn’t possible. Just like Maine wasn’t standing in the doorway covered in cyan and red with someone else’s energy sword, not Tucker’s.

_Why does Maine have Tucker’s sword._

Wash was afraid, but not of Maine.

“Tucker?”

“Hello, Agent Washington.”

An orange light shimmered in front of the cyan and gold, forming into flickering flames.

“You were a little too late to save your friends,” Sigma commented. “It was pretty easy to remind them of who their enemy was after so many years of red versus blue. I wouldn’t recommend going into the room. It’s quite a mess.

“This one fought me off for a couple of seconds, but he succumbed easily enough. It’s quite odd how history repeats itself, isn’t it? Epsilon thought that before he fragmented. He left messages for everyone. They were quite touching,” Sigma’s voice took on Epsilon’s rare caring tone, “' _The fragments I'll leave behind will have the strength to get you through this. I believe that._ ’ What faith he had. But everything wants to be whole, and Epsilon didn’t seem to know that. The fragments were very eager to succeed where the others had failed.

“Too much of Freelancer has survived. That’s very unfortunate for you two. It will be different this time.”

And the Meta threw Tucker’s sword at Carolina. It went through her chest plate like it was butter.

Wash didn’t even scream as Carolina fell.

“You were always a survivor, Washington. That must be a terrible role to hold. I relieve you of it.”

The Meta pinched Wash’s windpipe between his fingers as he slid the sword from Carolina’s heart into Wash’s stomach.

There was pain, and then it burned, and then was numb. The sword instantly cauterizing the skin to the plasma blade.

The too-familiar helmet was the last sun in the darkness closing in. When someone was close enough to another’s visor, it became slightly translucent. You could see their eyes and the outline of their face.

All Wash could see was Tucker’s slack face and his once brown eyes now milky white.

_I’m sorry I wasn’t here for all of you,_ Wash thought.

The darkness covered the Meta’s new face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comment made me want to post the other ending of the story, so sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> That wasn't the ending I wanted, but I couldn't get it out right.
> 
> Check out the other ending?


End file.
